Not Always Strong
by XxScorpio-MoonxX
Summary: Sequel to Beautiful Demon. Sylar is stabbed and survives. Mohinder never thought he would see Sylar weak despite wanting to stop him. But when faced with Sylar's vulnerablilty as he is near death, Mohinder can't help being who he is. Mylar oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or the lyrics to 'Circle' by Slipknot.

A/N: I revised this story because some people mentioned the typos, so hopefully it flows better now. Well seeing as my last Mylar one-shot did fairly well I decided to write a sequel to it because I thought it would fit with the season finale. I will remind you that I am VERY new with writing slash but for some reason I am obsessed with Sylar and Mohinder and I don't know why there just so……. hot together. Anyways, with all that said, let's go!

Not Always Strong

Mohinder was alone.

Everyone was gone after the battle, and the world was saved. New York was going to survive and life would continue as normal, as it should be. But still, not even that thought would make him smile. Confusion was a good adjective for his feelings, confused and depressed and slightly angry with himself.

He wished that things could go back to the way they were before he met Zane/Sylar, before things had gotten so complicated and he had all but wound a tight web of lies and half-truths around himself. Sylar wasn't dead, he was sure of that. He had been stabbed, but there was a blood trail leading into the sewer and all traces of him were gone.

That thought weighed deeply on him and he wanted to scream profanities at himself for the desire to go looking for him. He should just let things go as they were. It wasn't like he had any commitment to Sylar, their relationship had mostly been sexual and not a lot of emotion was involved.

_Besides_his mind whispered at him, _why should you go looking for the man who KILLED YOUR FATHER?_ He winced at the thought because it was undeniably true. Sylar had killed his father. If he was any kind of a son at all, he would have killed Sylar himself in cold blood. But he didn't. Quite the opposite actually. In fact, he had been to be with him repeatedly even after he knew that he wasn't Zane. Every time he told himself it was wrong. Every time he refused to listen.

_**Give me the dust of my father **_

_**Stand on the face of the ancients**_

_**Bare the secret flesh of time itself **_

His tea had long gone cold and he had long forgotten about it. It was raining outside, the sound of the rain hitting his window doing nothing to calm his nerves. _Let it go,_ he told himself, _there's nothing you can do about it now_. Staring out of the window he felt a heavy weight in his chest and forced himself to turn away from the thoughts.

But still, he wondered………..

Line thingie

Sylar leaned on the wall of the sewer, panting, sweating, bleeding. In fact, he was amazed that he was even alive to begin with after Hiro had run him through with a katana. His hand was over his front wound, coated in blood and shaking with shock.

He groaned in pain as he fought down nausea from the stench of raw sewage. He could hear rats running around, no doubt from the smell of his blood that was running down the wall behind him and making a pool on the floor. One rat had already started licking at it and he kicked it hard in the side, sending it flying into the stream of raw waste.

"Fucking rodent." He cursed. He knew he had to move soon before his body completely gave out and he either died instantly or fell into a coma and died. Both of them ended with him being eaten by rats and that was not a thought he wanted to entertain. Groaning and using a lot of effort to do so, he began walking. Each step made him a little weaker but he fought the urge to collapse as he continued walking.

He didn't know how long he had been walking but sighed with relief when he saw a ladder that would get him the hell away from the vermin that were following him as if he was the Pied Piper. He grabbed onto the ladder and slowly fought to get up. After a couple failed attempts he finally made it to the top - that was the easy part, lifting the man hole, not so much. Using most of his strength he was able to shove it over to the side, making an opening just big enough for him to climb out of.

_**Follow me (Follow me) **_

_**I've come so far behind again **_

Pain was starting to set in now and he felt his body starting to seize as he pulled himself up into a standing position. Blood was splattering on the ground, mingling with the rain and running into the gutter. He didn't know where he was, but he did know that he needed to keep walking. Pausing at this point would only ensure his death.

Whether by fate or sheer luck he didn't know but he found himself recognizing his surroundings. He was close to Mohinder's apartment, it couldn't have been more then a five-minute walk. As he walked he found himself becoming oddly amused with himself. Here he was, someone who had at one point had thought he had no reason to live, fighting desperately to save his own hide.

_**Follow me (Follow me) **_

_**Wish so hard I'm there again **_

He could never remember a five minute walk taking so long in his entire existence, but then again he wasn't exactly in the condition to run a marathon. His steps were getting smaller and smaller until finally he was merely shuffling down the sidewalk, his step heavy and uncoordinated. By the time he reached the apartment stairs he thought he was going to pass out before he even reached the door.

But somehow he was able to reach it, relying on pure willpower to force his body to keep moving. He slammed into the door, leaving a little blood smear as he desperately pounded on the door with his fist. He could barely breath as the door opened and he saw Mohinder's face.

"Mohinder……." The name left his lips as no more then a cracked sigh, brown eyes boring into blue for an instant, then the ground started spinning and everything went dark. He didn't even feel his own battered body hitting the ground at Mohinder's feet.

_**Follow me (Follow me) **_

_**Follow me (Follow me) **_

Line Thingie

When Mohinder had heard the pounding on his door at 2 am in the morning, he had assumed that it had been someone coming to tell him that Matt Parkman had just died in the ICU. It certainly couldn't have been Molly seeing as she was staying with Micha's family for the night.

The last person had expected to see when he opened the door was Sylar himself, looking more defeated and broken then he could ever remember seeing or imaging him. His usual air of power and strength was depleted, replaced with the look of someone who on the verge of death.

Their eyes had met for the briefest of moments but even that was enough to tell Mohinder why he was here. He was terrified, an emotion that Mohinder had thought Sylar would never need to feel again. But as he fell onto the ground in front of him, clearly unconscious in a small puddle of blood and rain he was reminded that Sylar was, despite whatever powers or abilities, only human.

_**All that I wanted were things I had before **_

_**All that I needed I've never needed more **_

He stood in the hallway for a moment, battling with himself between his loyalty to his father's memory and his compassion for the man who had become his lover some time ago. He wanted nothing better then to throw him down the stairs and never see him again, but at the same time he felt an emotion for the man before him, the man who was surely on the verge of death.

He knew why Sylar was here, even if Sylar didn't. He needed him, something that Mohinder never thought would happen. Sylar was very proud and independent, but all traces of that man was gone now, replaced with someone helpless.

Cursing under his breath and damning his humanity to the pits of hell he grabbed Sylar and dragged him into the apartment, shutting the door and making a mental note to clean up the blood later. Stripping Sylar of his jacket and shoes he lifted him onto the couch, panting with the effort of moving dead weight. His shirt was soaked with blood and rain and he mentally noted that his couch was probably stained beyond repair.

Bracing himself for the worst, he opened his shirt, flinching at the sight of the gaping hole that went into his side and straight through to his back. The wound was still bleeding and he mentally marveled that Sylar was still alive, let alone able to walk or even stand. He stripped the shirt off of him and threw it straight into the trash before grabbing two towels and placing one under the wound in Sylar's back and one over the wound in the front. It wasn't much but it should help to keep out potential infection.

The whole time he was doing this he questioned himself. It was morally wrong for him to be saving the life of the man who had so brutally taken his fathers, and yet it was that same morality that told him to save a man who was dying. It felt as if Sylar was the only person who ever caused him to question not only his morals, but his very sanity.

_**All of my questions are answers to my sins **_

_**All of my endings waiting to begin **_

Stripping Sylar of his waterlogged jeans and throwing them into his laundry basket he grabbed a spare blanket from his closet and threw it over his unconscious lover. He paused for a moment to stare into Sylar's face, which was completely without his usual firmness, coldness, hint of fatal mischief and blazing eyes. In his state, he truly did look like the angel in which he had been named after.

Only one who looked closely could see the clamminess of his skin which was devoid of it's usual color, his thin yet defined lips the color of paper. Against his own will his hand reached out, brushing his unnaturally pale cheek which was cold.

"I should have killed you." He whispered before leaning down and brushing his icy lips briefly. Heaving a sigh he went into the kitchen to make himself some tea. To be honest he was worried about Sylar. It was a miracle that he was still breathing after sustaining an injury of that nature and intensity, and there was still a good chance that he wouldn't survive the night. What he needed was a damned hospital but Mohinder knew better then to take him there. There was far too much risk.

Shaking his head he grabbed a mug and poured himself a large cup of tea with the certainty that he wasn't going to be sleeping tonight, but then again that seemed to be the norm when it came to Sylar.

Line Thingie

_He didn't know where he was, all he knew was that was he was staring intensely into the dark eyes of Issac Mendez. He stood there, eyes never leaving his._

"_You know you're dying, right?" He asked bluntly, walking towards him. "You've seen it, Sylar. You know how this ends, you're just running on borrowed time." And then suddenly, figures began to form behind him and he could recognize the familiar faces of Zane, Eden, Molly's parents, and the faces of the other people who had killed for no reason other then his desire for power. _

_**I know the way that I falter **_

_**Can't be afraid of my patience **_

"_No." Sylar whispered, backing away in horror. "No, get away from me!" _

"_Face it, Gabriel." Issac said, using his birth name. "Time's running out." His widened, horrified as he stared directly into the faces of the people he had killed._

"_No!"_

In the end, it was his own voice which awoke him.

_**There's a sacred place where Razel keeps safe**_

Line Thingie

"No!" Sylar's shout came so abruptly that it caused Mohinder to jump, nearly spilling his tea all over the paper he was reading. Sure, 4 in the morning seemed like an unusual time to be reading the paper, but then again for most people it was an unusual time to be awake in the first place. "No!" Alarmed Mohinder ran into the living room where Sylar's head was thrashing about as if he was having some kind of nightmare.

Grabbing him gently by the shoulders he shook him, trying to get him out of whatever unpleasant dream he was trapped in. "Wake up!" He said, still holding onto his shoulders. "Sylar, wake up!" He lightly slapped his face, hoping that it would be more effective, which it was. Sylar's eyes flew open and Mohinder saw the fear in them for the second time that day - also the second time in his entire life.

"Issac!" He exclaimed, looking around wildly as if expecting the dead painter the come out from the shadows and attack him. "And Eden…….Zane….. I saw them. He said that I'm dying and-"

"Calm down." Mohinder said, stemming the flow of jumbled words from the other man's mouth. "You're delirious, Sylar. And damned lucky to be alive."

"No." He protested, sweat beginning to break on his forehead. "I saw them….. I saw all of them. Mohinder…. I'm dying…" In all his times of seeing Sylar, he had never seen more fear and he suspected it was for a good reason.

_**Follow me (Follow me) **_

_**I've seen so much I'm behind again **_

"No….." He said, gently sitting on the end of the couch, careful not to crush his feet. "You're going to be fine…" He didn't know if it was true, but he knew it was what Sylar needed to hear. Before today he could never have imagined Sylar as vulnerable and afraid. I guess in a sense, at times, he had forgotten that Sylar was still very much human.

His breathing returned to normal as well as his heart rate but the lingering doubt never quite left his eyes. Mohinder loved those eyes, even against everything that told him to rip them out of his head. Placing a hand on his cheek he leaned down to kiss him, the thrill that Sylar invoked in him making itself known in his stomach.

_**Follow me (Follow me)**_

_**I feel so bad I'm in love again **_

_**Follow me (Follow me) **_

Sylar was weak, but still somehow managed to kiss back with an aggression that was as alluring as it was domineering. Mohinder didn't mind either of them, but even as his mouth moved in rhythm with his lover's he still couldn't get his words out of his mind. _Mohinder… I'm dying…_ They broke away and Mohinder could see that Sylar was visibly relaxed, although still distressed.

"Let me see, I am a doctor…… sort of." He tried his best to give him what he hoped was a comforting smile but it turned out to look more fake then he would have wanted and Sylar knew it. Pulling back the blanket and peeling the bloodstained towel away from the wound he inspected it. At least the bleeding had stopped, which was a good thing. "You don't seem to have hit any major organs. There's a good deal of damage but nothing I can see that will prove immediately fatal." He tried to make it as optimistic as he could and failed dismally, that wasn't something he was about to deny.

"Mohinder….." He pressed a dark finger to his lips, silencing the words that were both unspoken and yet known.

"Just sleep." He said, leaning down so that his face was very close to his lover's. "Wasting your energy with worrying isn't going to help you any." He again kissed the lighter male, letting fire and passion into the kiss but not enough to cause need for any petting. There was enough time for that later when Sylar was healed enough to engage in such activities.

Sylar's tongue was rough, yet smooth like sand paper that was old with use and as his hand somehow found it's way into Mohinder's curly hair he couldn't help but grin at the contact momentarily easing his fear. Breaking away from each other's mouths proved to be a little harder then they were expecting but finally air became a major issue and they no real choice about it.

"Now sleep." Mohinder whispered, pulling back that he was sitting up properly. Almost against his own will, Sylar's eyes closed and his face became smoother, but none of the color had returned yet. Placing the cloth and blanket to it's original position, he found himself almost mystified by his life.

He hadn't wanted change to begin with, and yet everything had in the blink of an eye. He had somehow found himself in America hunting down a serial killer who had someone become his 'forbidden lover' so to say. But all that was small details to the huge point that was hitting him.

Gabriel Gray.

Sylar.

The one man in the whole world that he had feared maybe even more then the devil himself, and with damned good reason. He was the killer of his own father, the man that had ruthlessly raped others of their power for his own selfish game and yet, the he was the only other person besides little Molly that had ever truly needed him in order to have a chance of surviving.

_**All that I wanted were things I had before **_

_**All that I needed I've never needed more **_

Shaking his head and finding life cruelly ironic he looked back at his lover, who had eased himself back into sleep easily enough to the rising sun that was coming in through his conveniently (or inconveniently, whichever you looked at it) placed window.

The rays bounced off the walls, sending the warm glow throughout the entire apartment, a single beam of light coming to rest on Sylar's face giving him some false color. Mohinder smiles and mentally notes that for once he isn't thinking about saving the world, isn't plagued with endless questions and 'what ifs?'. That for once he is merely looking at a simple New York sunrise which holds not the promise of another day, but with it, the promise of life and the realization that even the most feared people aren't always strong.

_**All of my questions are answers to my sins **_

_**All of my endings waiting to begin**_

A/N:

Well, there, it's done! This one definitely had a different tone then the first one, but I think I actually like this one better but it better shows the mental relationship as opposed to the physical relationship. Anyways, you all know what to do, so please leave a review and tell me what you thought. And if you like straight pairings, please check out my other Heroes fics called 'Tears for an Angel' and 'Unnatural Fire.' I reply to all signed reviews, so I hope to hear from you soon!


End file.
